A clear and beautiful Memorial Day weekend offered a chance to return to a space that likely stands much as Lewis & Clark left it, though a lot more groomed than on their original passing.
Getting there increased in importance with repeated reports of a weekend to remember at your favorite nature hideaway. This 5.5 hour goal seemed more pressing than ever. The only pause afforded away from staring down highway occurred out of necessity in Scribner, a small town with no shortage of saloons. So plentiful are they that each is undoubtedly open on a pre-arranged day of the week so as to not drive the others out of business.
A steady breeze atop a bluff above the Niobrara eventually greeted the remainder of the afternoon a few hours later. The sun beat down in spite of things, reaching between gusts, threatening to scorch everything below. Setting base camp proved a strenuous effort, but not impossible.
Wandering about the afternoon, crossing some of the various freshly mowed and or plowed trails at this time of year reveals how and why and the Ponca valued this land. There are lessons here in the Great Plains and lot of peace, excepting the persistent whisper of the winds through the tall grass and pines.
Down in the valley of a prior base station found the pond suffering from the apparent ongoing drought. Surrounded by growth and life on the last visit at this time of year, it looked freshly drained on this occasion, a shadow of its former self.
The sun burned away into evening, until sufficient atmosphere began to reduce its reach. It left the local fire pit in charge of the battle against darkness, which it held command over another hour, before losing out to that steady wind that had battered the plain all day and would flap accommodations for the night.
It welcomed sleepy, but well-rested eyes, again on the morning of the return to civilization. The sun continued to coal its furnace, promising to heat partially cloudy skies to the point of rain. Very little civilization presents any obstacle there, and two-lane roads surrounded by seas of grain ripple endlessly across the land.
Neligh stands as the only encounter with said civilization on the journey south. The State Historic Site hosted a lesson on life in this harsh world during the early 1900s. A look around seemed sufficient on this particular visit. Two or three others had already crowded the location and begun intensive interaction with the proprietors, leaving no opportunity for additional involvement.
Beyond that, mile after mile of empty highway. The population appeared to have vanished in favor of better company. The view across mile after mile rarely interrupted by more than a telephone pole and long stretches of blacktop.
The solace of empty two-lanes hosts a few dots on the map, who all offered a similar Memorial Day Salute surrounding tombs. That same steady breeze kept flags continually snapping to attention in remembrance of those that gave their lives in the quest for peace.
Further Reading
